


enough

by neyvenger (jjjat3am)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/neyvenger
Summary: Stevie can’t come to Carra’s 40th birthday party and that’s fine





	enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redandgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandgold/gifts).



> This is a treat for my fave Manc, I hope you like it.
> 
> Gary was at Carra's bday party but it did seem like Stevie wasn't? So I wonder what's going on there.

  
  
  
  


Stevie can’t come to Carra’s 40th birthday party and that’s fine.

 

He’s swamped with meetings, and the youth team have an early game the next day, and he just can’t afford to be seen partying with Carra and his cohort the day before. He doesn’t say that in as many words, just apologizes profusely, and that’s what almost hurts. But only almost, because a Stevie that doesn’t put his responsibilities first isn’t the man that Carra fell in love with so many years ago.

 

It’s a fun night anyway. The food is spectacular and the drinks are plenty. He introduces Neville to his cousins, who take a shine to him and ply him with cider until he’s up on the bar, doing karaoke. 

 

The DJ plays a Phil Collins song and Carra sings his heart out anyway because he’s been forced to listen to it so often he knows all the lyrics.

 

But, at the end of the night, he walks home alone. The party is still going, of course, because Carraghers aren’t quitters, but Carra has a radio interview to do tomorrow, early enough that he doesn’t feel comfortable staying up till dawn. Is that what adulthood is like? At 40, he thought he’d have that figured out.

 

The venue of the party is a ten-minute walk to his apartment. It’s chilly outside, so he walks a little quicker, hunching in on himself. It reminds him, weirdly, of all the times he’d walked from practice as a kid, his cleats tracking mud on his Everton jersey.

 

There’s a small local football pitch just off one of the streets and he’s turning that way before he even realizes what he’s doing, peering out into the darkness. All he sees are the silhouettes of the goal posts reflecting the streetlights. His shiny shoes sink into the mud a little.

 

He laughs to himself, shaking his head. He’d used to go to small pitches just like this in the evenings, still sore from practice, to meet up with Stevie. They’d practice free kicks, or tackles, or dribbles, or sometimes they’d just talk. About nothing in particular. Games they’d seen played. Games they’d want to play. Girls they wanted to impress.

 

The kind of things lads talk about, while not thinking about kissing each other.

 

He walks the rest of the way, letting the cold night air sweep the thoughts from his head.

 

Once he comes up to his apartment though, he frowns. The security system is disabled and when he steps into his hallway, he can hear the TV on in the living room. Carra kicks off his shoes and grabs a baseball bat he’s got in the hallway closet. Either he’s being robbed by a particularly dumb robber or-

 

“Hi,” Stevie says, blinking up at him from the couch, “were you planning on hitting me with that?”

 

Carra relaxes, propping the bat on the ground. “I thought you were robbing me,” he points out.

 

“And what, I was just trying to make sure your TV worked before I nicked it?” Stevie snorts and Carra rolls his eyes at him. He goes back into the hallway to put away the bat away and hang up his jacket.

 

“It’s my birthday, you should be nicer!” he yells from the hallway.

 

“I’m being nice, you’re the one who almost hit me with a baseball bat,” Stevie says when Carra returns to the living room and throws himself on the couch next to him. Stevie grins at him, and throws his arm around his shoulders, and impulsively, still kind of drunk, Carra kisses his cheek.

 

Stevie flushes a little and Carra pretends he doesn’t see it. “Why are you here? I thought you had meetings.”

 

“Came to give you your present, didn’t I?” Stevie says. 

 

Now, if this were one of Carra’s fantasies, this is where he’d start taking off his shirt to reveal a bow tied around his neithers, but it’s not, so instead Carra says, “Remember that time when Razor put his dick in a box and gave it to his girlfriend?”

 

“I think that was a prostitute,” Stevie says, shaking his head. “I think anyone else would throw him out on his ass for that move.”

 

Carra pouts. “So that’s not my present?” he asks. Stevie rolls his eyes and turns away to rummage in the bag at his feet.

 

Carra watches his face in the dim light from the television, playing some Turkish league game, and he doesn’t think about pining or regrets. Stevie’s here and that’s fine. 

 

That’s enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What was Stevie's present? I don't know, I couldn't think of one. I welcome suggestions.


End file.
